


A Little Indigo Delta

by Entwife_Incognito



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: F/M, Farce, Humor, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 22:31:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8178544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entwife_Incognito/pseuds/Entwife_Incognito
Summary: Teresa Lisbon's curiosity is piqued! She's never seen Patrick Jane quite like this. A lusty little ramble in an AU where Red John isn't a factor. Farcical smut, turning to porn, most likely. Disclaimer: I don't own anything about The Mentalist.Transferred this from FFnet with editing for readability. Originally posted there May 22, 2013.





	1. Chapter 1

Patrick Jane looked dazed. Tea bag hanging, still dripping over a teacup from his raised right hand, his face was mildly flushed and his hooded blue eyes focused across the small room. The object of his interest was a delta of deep indigo blue, which was flashing on and off, on and off. He had completely lost track of what the woman was saying, as her animated and inviting chatter filled the room. Indigo. Indigo. Indigo.

Teresa Lisbon was across that small room, perched on a chair with her feet close to her body, opening and closing her faded blue jean-covered knees as she chattered happily to the woman next to her. Teresa's green eyes were lit under her dark bangs and her nose crinkled with humor as she relayed some happy event in her conversation.  


Indigo. Indigo. Indigo. Jane's mouth watered but he regained his composure as he shifted his feet, swallowed and tossed the tea bag into the nearby sink. His china rattled slightly as he picked up the cup and sipped cautiously at the hot, spiced tea. Ah, soothing. Just the thing to calm his nerves. But the crotch of Teresa's jeans continued to flash like semaphore into his brain, deep and dark against the more faded material that covered her legs. In an unguarded moment, he wished she was somehow signaling him in for a passionate tryst but all the messaging seemed to be his own internal meanderings.  


Steady, Jane, he thought with discomfort as he felt his heating blood head lazily to his groin. Well, that would be showing. So Patrick Jane found himself stuck, turned towards the break room sink like a hapless teenager, trying to think dry thoughts to calm himself. Keeping his eyes averted from that flashing delta, he was hoping to be able to finish his tea, standing, and leave the room without attracting attention.  


"Jane!"  


Lisbon had noticed him. Something was up with Jane. He was acting nervous, and he was never nervous, shifting on his feet, hanging his cup and saucer over the sink, and drinking his tea standing up. He seemed to be hurrying with it. "Are you all right?"  


Jane looked over his shoulder toward her, but not actually at her, and shrugged as he drained his cup. "Yeah, sure. Fine. You okay, Lisbon?" He put his things in the sink and headed to the door.  


"Yea—ahh."  


Watching Jane leave the room, Lisbon noted as trivia that something was wrong with his suit. But she was talking, enjoying herself, so she almost missed what her detective's eyes had taken in. There was a bulge in Patrick Jane's trousers! Her eyes widened and confirmed her almost subconscious discovery just before he went through the doorway. The front of this man's carefully tailored and fitted trousers always rode flat and undisturbed, never gave a hint of what was underneath them. A girl couldn't help but be curious.  


Shocked by her first realization of Jane's oversized feet, Lisbon had responded to her womanly curiosity any number of times by surreptitious glance, but had never once been treated to any view that would satisfy it. That old wives tale was a bunch of bunk! No matter. It never stopped his treacherous good looks and smile from causing a primal thump in her groin every time his eyes really focused on hers. Assets like that could make any number of flaws insignificant. Within limits, of course.  


So. She had caught sight of an aroused Patrick Jane. And it put her primal thump into overdrive as she reviewed the memory repeatedly throughout the day. Who and what had been in his mind that had put him in such a state?  


The pace of the next day, its demands and distractions, left all idle musings behind. Both Lisbon and Jane were settled and easily able to complete the fairly straightforward case with the rest of the team.  


It was the paperwork afterwards that allowed Lisbon's mind to wander. There was more curiosity than heat to her mind's meanderings at first. She could not figure out how she was going to get to the bottom of this silly little mystery without actually catching Patrick Jane with his pants down. This gave her a small frisson, and she caught herself giggling into her keyboard. Great. Now that tantalizing image was lodged in her brain along with the view of his bulging trousers yesterday. True, they were not straining. Just lumpy. Could mean a lot of things. Oh, yeah? Like what? Teresa giggled again. In a few moments she heard Jane's footsteps as he approached her open office door.  


"What are you giggling at, Lisbon?"  


"I am not giggling!" Apparently he had heard her in the bullpen. She thought he had either gone or was asleep on his couch. Her giggling wasn't loud. The nosy parker. Slinking around to get into everybody's business. She knew she was blushing. And she knew Jane would notice.  


"Uh-huh." He watched her beautiful eyes dart with those busy thoughts, coming to their convicting conclusions.  


"What are you still doing here, Jane? You should have gone home long ago."  


"I don't like to leave you on this empty floor alone. Just being polite." You know I have nothing better to do, Lisbon."  


Jane's forehead wrinkled . . . and was his lower lip trying to puff out in a pout? "Oh, poor you. Anyway, I'm the one with the gun. Remember?"  


"You always bring that up, Lisbon. Why is that?"  


"Oh, shoo! I'm busy."  


"I'll wait."  


Lisbon discreetly eyed the front of his trousers as he went out. Flat. What was she, fourteen? She huffed in exasperation at her silly behavior.  


But Patrick Jane had already noticed the direction of Lisbon's glance. What was that about?  


Jane had a nice bit of time to lie on his couch and ponder the question. Shortly he recalled his heated behavior on returning home the evening before. It wasn't often that he got frisky with himself, but the two—yes, two--bouts last night had been especially splendid, and they each involved fantasies of – Lisbon! Jane's whole body stiffened and his eyes flew open.  


Now he remembered how it had all started. Lisbon flashing that deep indigo delta of hers! He had become mildly but uncontrollably aroused. He hadn't been completely calm when he tried to scurry out of the break room while she continued to flash indigo semaphore to whoever would look. Lisbon must have noticed! The little minx! She must be trying to get a better look.  


Jane didn't know she was so interested in him that way. Cared about him, worried about him sometimes. Weathered all the meaningless man-woman stuff that occurred any time the sexes were in mixed company. But Lisbon was a rock of professionalism. She could compartmentalize anything and get on with the job without showing a ruffle of unrest. Real sexual interest? In him? And something that she obviously couldn't control very easily. Now a blunt lust kicked in. He wouldn't mind giving her a better look!  


Soon Lisbon poked her head into the bullpen and said, "Jane, I'm leaving now."  


"Okay. Okay," he muttered as if he had been asleep. He got up and stretched, yawning himself fully alert. "I'm coming."  


The elevator was a little awkward. No matter how many times she caught herself and husbanded her eyes, Lisbon couldn't stop herself from trying to see the front of Jane's trousers without really looking. It made her appear jumpy and nervous. Which she was!  


Jane smiled at Lisbon's unsettled state and her attempts to keep from checking him out. It excited him. "What are you looking at, Lisbon?"  


"Looking at? Nothing. I've just got a lot on my mind."  


"I'd say that you've got me on your mind. You're checking me out." He smiled mischievously at her, blushing a little in spite of himself. This was fun.  


Now Lisbon was defensively angry and turning deep pink. "Are you crazy? Stop with the games, Jane. It's not funny."  


"Aaahhhhhh," he smiled, wheedling her. "I think there's something there, Lisbon," Jane teased in a sing-song voice. He decided to continue the tease. It was titillating! "You must have seen my, ah, condition in the break room yesterday."  


Lisbon said nothing, fuming silently, hoping he would get bored and quit.  


"Did you?" he teased in a silly, squeaking voice.  


"Damn you, Jane! Why do you always have to start trouble? Why can't you just politely leave things alone?"  


"I'll take that as a yes."  


The elevator doors opened and Lisbon fairly leapt out of them, walking briskly for the outside door, the parking lot and the safe haven of her car.  
Jane called out to her in the parking lot, "It was your fault, Lisbon!"  


Lisbon steamed and kept walking to her car. Then, she stopped and turned on him before she got there, spinning on her heels to confront him. She had to hold in a laugh when he actually cringed, eyes wide, his mouth registering caution as he stopped in his tracks several feet from her.  


Jane knew she could get quite physical with people and she was a lot stronger than she looked. He didn't want another of her punches to his nose! He kept his eyes on her and angled his body to run in case she advanced on him so that he would have time to get away. But Lisbon just stared daggers at him. He could take that.  


"My fault! How do you figure?" She took a couple of steps towards him.  


Jane didn't answer right away, calculating if she was still far enough that he could get away and whether she would keep moving towards him. He backed up a couple of steps. But she held her ground.  


"Lisbon, we can't talk about this in the parking lot."  


"We don't need to talk about it at all."  


"Oh, now. You know that's not true. Anyway, I can't stop now."  


"Why not, Jane? Why can't you just forget about it?"  


"You know I can't forget things once they're in my memory palace. And believe me, this will have a room all its own!"  


God, the man was exasperating! Why couldn't he just let it go? Well, he wouldn't and Lisbon knew it. He'd torture her with it until she broke down anyway. Best to maintain some control over the situation. "Fine. Let's talk."  


Jane was suspicious of her capitulation. "Where?"  


"Get in the car."  


"Are you going to hit me, Lisbon?"  


"What? When have I ever hit you?"  


Jane widened his eyes and looked at her meaningfully.  


"Fine. No, I'm not going to hit you. Get in the car."  


"Are you going to punch me in the nose? Because that hurts, Lisbon."  


"No! What are you, ten? Get in the car!" Good grief. He was causing a scene in the parking lot! If she could just get him in the car before anybody noticed. She walked to her car, unlocked it and got in, without looking at him again. He had come to the passenger door by then. Removing his suit coat, he got in and sat down. Lisbon shot the automatic locks and started the car. But before she put it in gear, she reached over and grabbed a hunk of Jane's upper arm through his shirtsleeves and pinched the fire out of him.  


"Ow! Ow! Lisbon! That's not fair! You know I can't get you back. You're a girl."  


"Yeah, and I'm your boss. So let's get this little employee discussion out of the way."  


Jane grinned and barely kept from laughing when he muttered, "It's not little, Lisbon."  


"What?"  


"Nothing." Then, almost to himself, "Maybe you'll see."  


Lisbon issued her best scold, using sarcasm to attempt to shame where there was none. "Could you be more inappropriate, Jane?"  


"Not as inappropriate as you checking me out." He was still grinning. But then his face fell, "Or pinching me. That'll make a bruise," he sulked.  


"You deserved it."  


"Maybe." He decided to change the subject. "Where do you want to talk? In the car?"  


"No, Jane. You'll make me wreck."  


"We could go get some dinner at the diner."  


Lisbon looked at him like he had three heads and knew better than to say otherwise. "Oh, yeah. We really want a scene like this in a restaurant."  


"My place?"  


"Are you out of your mind? I guess we'll have to go to my place."  


"Okay."  


"And mind your manners!"  


The drive to Lisbon's apartment had been quiet and uneventful. After they had gone in and Lisbon had removed her jacket and set her things down, she moved to the kitchen. "Tea, Jane?"  


"Yes. That's nice. Thank you." Jane was trying his best. He sat on the couch. "This is comfortable," he said.  


"Table, Jane." Lisbon brought two cups of tea when they were ready.  


They sat across from one another, sipping for a few moments. Jane wasn't about to open his mouth before she did.  


"Okay, Jane. What could I have possibly done that put you in a state of, of, put you in that state." She was blushing furiously.  


"So. You did notice."  


"Yes! I noticed! Get on with it, Jane."  


"Well. There I was, innocently making my cup of tea, waiting for it all to come together, just passing the time. You were there with Van Pelt, yakking up a storm, having fun . . . "  


"And that, uh, bothered you? How is that my fault?"  


"Hold on, Lisbon, now that I have to tell it straight, it's not so easy."  


"Okay, I'm sorry. I know it's a delicate subject. Go on."  


"Well . . . you were very animated and relaxed, your feet up on the chair . . . " He waited, to see if she would remember what she was doing.  


"Yes . . . ?"  


"You were wagging your legs."  


"Wagging my legs? What's that?"  


"You know. Feet on the chair? Knees up? Knees apart. Knees together. Again and again?"  


"And that's what bothered you. I don't get it, Jane."  


"Well. You know. When you're legs were open, there was your, your, you know." Jane face was shell pink as he pointed across the table at her, indicating something lower. Teresa looked at him, gawking, trying to figure out what he was talking about.  


"My crotch? You saw the crotch of my jeans? That's what this is about? Clothing. That completely covers my body. That got you, uh, riled up?"  


"Don't say crotch, Lisbon, it was more of a delta."  


"Have you lost your mind, Jane, a delta? What are you talking about?"  


"I didn't even realize what was happening, like hypnosis, Lisbon. All of a sudden this indigo delta shape was flashing in my mind as I was waiting for my tea and then I saw that it was your delta. Your jeans are darker there, you know. And it got to me and you kept flashing it, I know you didn't mean to, but I didn't mean to either. But I couldn't look away. And before I knew it I was, well, getting hard." This last Jane said extra quietly, with a shrug and a grimace. "It took a long time to go away because you kept it up—" He snickered at this.  


Lisbon gave him a withering stare.  


"Well you did, Lisbon. I finally just had to slip out of there as best I could. But I guess you saw. And now you want to see mo-ore." Jane grinned, and then became more thoughtful, shaking his head a little. "And I have to say, Lisbon, I'm not against showing you." He made to get up.  


"Hey! Stay right there! Honestly, Jane, do you have no control at all? I don't want to see anything!"  


"You can't flash that in front of a man, Lisbon, and expect him not to notice."  


Lisbon stared at him in disbelief. This was surreal. The best thing was just to apologize and move on.  


"Okay, okay. I'm sorry if I was immodest. I apologize. I will keep that in mind and do better. All right?"  


"But you keep checking me out, Lisbon. I'll show you. And really, I want to see you, too. It's only fair."  


"Okay. Now we're in nursery school. You show me yours and I'll show you mine? Really? This is where you're going, Jane?"  


"You know you want to."  


"No. This is the deal, Jane. Look. Women check things out just like men do, okay?"  


"I know. That's what I'm saying."  


"No. Let me explain. God, Jane, you're such a pain in the ass. Your appearance has always been, uh, dapper. Oh God. The front of your trousers has always been flat, never any, uh, disturbance, even when you're with women I know you're attracted to. That's why when I saw you in that, uh, condition, it was a big surprise, you know. So it was sort of an automatic response to pay more attention to, uh, it. Damn. You know what I mean. I didn't mean to. It's just wiring or something. I will do better, but give me some room, okay? I'm not going to jump your bones or anything."  


"Oh. That is disappointing. I mean, after all this, I'm a little worked up again."  


"Jane. Not my fault. You wanted to talk about this. I was willing to let it pass into the setting sun. But you had to talk about it." Good grief, all this talk was getting to her, too. Lisbon was feeling a little, well, squishy. She discreetly checked the front of her shirt. Oh, god. Her nipples were straining the fabric enough to be noticeable. She sat back and adjusted her blouse to balloon a little bit. Too late.  


Jane looked at her knowingly and nodded. "I know. I think we should go for it, Lisbon." He stood up.  


Lisbon turned politely away from an image that would be burned in her brain forever, shading her eyes with her hand. All that did was center her gaze to his large suede-clad feet. In a moment, she sighed and looked at him. "Jane. No. God, how have you hidden that, uh, that all these years? You wear tight trousers. I just thought you were, well, not well endowed." She couldn't believe she'd said that out loud. "Or you wore special carny underwear or something." She chuckled in spite of herself. This was an attempt at humor and Lisbon thought it was pretty funny.

Jane watched Lisbon's face as she looked appreciatively at his aroused state, no longer pretending modesty. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than for her curiosity to grow. "I'm a man, Lisbon. We're used to managing these things." He laughed softly through his nose. "Most of the time, that is." The pink flamed on his cheeks. "And . . . some of us . . . well, some of us are just more compact than others . . . in a resting state."

She looked up at him, flushed, gawking and half-strangled by his words. Truth. He'd used it as an erotic enticement. His golden curls, rugged beautiful face and eyes that obviously wanted her were overwhelming her good sense. It wasn't like he was a true employee. There was some leeway for this sort of thing, with a consultant, who is essentially an independent agent. But this would complicate everything. Her nether regions felt damp and swollen, her pulse throbbing there.

Lisbon stood up. "Jane . . . "

"Lisbon. Please come over to me. It's your house. I don't want to jump you in your house. You have to show me you want me to."

"Want you to jump me? No." Lisbon really, really wanted to see the unrest that was under his trousers now. "Couldn't we just kiss first?" She took a small step towards him.  
"You know I want to kiss you, Teresa." Patrick smiled, opened his arms to her, and she walked into his embrace.

"Me, too, Jane."

The kiss, their first, was sweet and tender. A deep well of affection fed the pleasure of their new intimacy and filled their quickly growing urgent desire for each other. Patrick finally paused to breathe Teresa's name as she trembled and pressed against him.

"Teresa?"

"Hmmmmmmm?"

"You know you can call me Patrick."

"Uh-huh." She shifted in his arms to look into his eyes. "Patrick?"

"Yes, Teresa?"

"Kiss me some more."


	2. Chapter 2

Lost in a passionate kiss, Patrick and Teresa explored each other's mouths gently, tenderly. It was luscious. Neither could believe it was so good. Jane ran his hands up the sides of her blouse, using his thumbs to brush the tender sides of her breasts near the armpits. He'd found a turbo switch to her lust! Teresa pressed herself so deeply into his arms that he almost had to take a step back to catch her. It wasn't long before they were both overheated and sweating.  


"Clothes. Clothes," Teresa said breathlessly. "Off."  


"Caveman talk. I like it." Patrick smiled delightedly at her growing desire for him.  


He pushed up the sides of her blouse abruptly, running his palms over her ribs and Teresa began to moan and fidget. So he pushed the blouse above the cups of her bra and started kissing the swell of her breasts. It didn't seem to settle or relieve her, so in one movement he pushed down her low-cut bra and popped her breasts into his waiting hands, thumbing the tight rosy nipples gently before he bent down to suckle them in turn.  


Very shortly, Teresa gave a strangled cry and wriggled out of her blouse and bra in one lithe movement, dipping low with her arms up and leaving Patrick with her empty clothes in his hands. Now it was Patrick's turn to gawk in amazement at her flexibility as well as the decided pursuit of her satisfaction. And she was looking to him for it! She was naked from the waist up, and he felt slightly dizzy in the wake of her unanticipated wantonness with him. She pulled Patrick back down to her breasts for more of his mouth while she tried to pull his shirt and vest over his head and arms.  


"Wait, love."  


Love? Teresa wondered briefly what that was about but she could think about it later.  


"Will you unbutton me, Teresa?"  


She looked at his waistband, which now appeared quite sunken compared to what was blooming from his groin. How could something like that be so elusive to the eye in everyday life?  


"Not yet." He smiled, seeing the direction of her wide-eyed gaze. "My vest and shirt?"  


"Oh." Teresa smiled into his eyes and started undoing him, then pushed the shirt and vest off his shoulders. He shrugged them down while she unbuttoned his shirt cuffs. She then tugged them off and let everything fall to the ground.  


Patrick watched her with rising desire. The pupils of her eyes were dilated, giving her eyes a rim of deep forest green, her hair love-mussed and wavy. A pink under glow suffused her creamy white skin, sprinkled everywhere with light freckles. He wanted to lick every one. Her loose breasts dazzled him as they jiggled with her movements. He wanted them in his mouth. Teresa saw his hungry eyes and lifted her breasts with her hands, thumbing the hard nipples. He dipped his head to take them, but had to let go to press the proof of his arousal against her belly when she arched against his body in pleasure.  


Finally, Patrick put his hands at Teresa's waist and gently steadied her on her feet, apart from him. He tried to imagine her completely naked. He wanted to watch her take her pants off. They looked at each other quietly, breathing heavily, and then Patrick stepped forward to lightly place his finger on the fabric between her legs, setting it where her opening would be and dragging it forward over the fabric that covered the seam of her heated sex. Just one stroke. It seemed to drive her mad.  


Moving nimbly to unbutton and then unzip Patrick's trousers, Teresa had them at his ankles in a blink. She watched, mesmerized at the erection swelling in his briefs that shifted before her eyes, the plump head trailing moisture as it moved against the thin cotton. He picked up one foot and then another to remove his shoes and socks, smiling at her hurried passion to disrobe him while she stared at what he was bringing to her. It put a roaring fire deep in his groin to see how much she seemed to want him. As he tucked his fingers in the elastic of his briefs to tug them down, Teresa put her hands on his to stop him. She wanted to feel him through his clothes, to satisfy her first carnal curiosity about him.  


Looking up, she caught his eye and smiled. Their kissing resumed like a stoked furnace, Teresa's hands exploring him sensuously through his underwear, feeling the full shape of him, grasping him through the fabric, squeezing. Patrick was beginning to feel light-headed and so aroused he wanted nothing more than to throw Teresa down, strip the rest of her clothing and plunge himself into what he knew would be a slide home. He wanted to drive her senseless while he made them both cry out in ecstasy. But he wanted her to disrobe in front of him first. So, instead he placed one finger on the seam of her pants where he knew her clitoris would be and lightly stroked it back and forth a few times. Teresa cried out from deep in her throat and stopped kissing him long enough to remove everything except her panties.  


"Put your finger there again," she breathed under sultry, half-lidded eyes, her lashes thick and dark against her cheeks.  


An electric spark seemed to travel like a lit fuse down Patrick's spine. He managed to respond quietly, in a voice strained with passion,"Gladly."  


He could feel every hill and valley, every knot and crevice through the thin silky fabric. He lay one finger at her folds, the moisture seeping through her panties, and stroked up and down, first one side, and then the other, and back again. She became very still, her breathing low. Then he pressed his thumb against the little organ and pushed it in slow, muted circles. Suddenly Teresa's body pulsed and she grabbed Patrick's arms, gripping them tightly as she threw her head back. Patrick bent over her to catch her lips as she breathed the waves of her ecstasy into his mouth. He had never expected to experience anything so incredible with the woman he had always viewed as sexually repressed. The pleasure of just watching her brought tears to his eyes, knowing he had caused this. She was so beautiful this way. In every way.  


When Teresa recovered a little, she removed his underwear herself, laying her cheek against his erection when she purposely bent down to help him get them off his feet. His scent was sharp and mixed with sandalwood. He was right. It was not little. And it was hard. And silky smooth. Patrick watched her handle him delicately, then begin to kiss and lightly lick. 

She wanted to kiss every inch of him. But he stopped her.  


"I'll never last. Can we slow down just a little before I disappoint you?"  


"I don't think you could do that. I've already been overwhelmed with pleasure, Patrick."  


A small smile appeared as his eyes grew unfocused and dreamy. "I remember. But I love that you say so, Teresa." He looked deeply into her eyes. "I almost cried watching you come against my fingers just now. You were so beautiful, so graceful in that moment." He kissed her lightly, and then walked the few steps to the kitchen.  


Teresa was struck in wonder. Patrick Jane? Almost cried? The pleasure of his admission washed through her like a warm sea. Then she remembered.  


"Hey. What's the secret of hiding that big boy in your trousers so well?"  


Grinning slyly at her, Patrick evaded. "Patience. I can't spill all my secrets the first night." He filled a glass with water from the tap.  


Teresa looked at him skeptically. "What? Some kind of biofeedback thing?" When he still didn't answer, she said suggestively, "Well, I'm thinking you want to spill something tonight."  


"Why, Lisbon. Sex as a weapon already? You'll find my own sword is a better weapon." He winked.  


"Maybe you won't enjoy it so much if you're handling it on your own."  


"Ahhhhh. Well. I'm thinking you've enjoyed handling my sword, Teresa. And if you think about it, your twitching fingers will tell you how much you want to get your hands on it again."  


Her laugh was almost a snort. "Don't try your mind games on me, Patrick Jane." She also thought how right he was. But she wanted his sword put to better use.  


He saw the flash of desire in her eyes and knew what Teresa must be thinking because he was thinking the same. "I haven't impaled you with it yet." Looking directly at her, his eyes dilated to almost total black with desire. He imagined the pleasure of burying his sword in its new-found sheath!  


Their sexual banter was a reminder of their intense foreplay only moments ago. Each noted the plump bright lips and cheeks, the smoky eyes and the tousled hair of the other.  


Remembering the incident that had led to this wonderful interlude, Teresa crossed to the sofa. As she moved her legs, her swollen nether lips brushed against each other like fat slabs of ripe melon. Patrick was still drinking in the small kitchen. It was in open view to the living room couch. Removing her panties and draping them on the arm of the sofa, Teresa stretched full-length there, waiting to catch his eye. She raised a little to lean back on her elbows and watch him in the kitchen.  


Teresa studied Patrick from behind. His was the most perfectly round set of buttocks that she had ever seen, the skin over them golden and almost glowing. How could human anatomy produce a gluteus structure that perfectly round? She was going to have to get her hands on those!  


He caught her erotic look and smiled warmly, putting the water glass down. 

"Take off your underwear." Maintaining their gaze, Teresa slowly drew up her legs and let her knees drop apart, thrusting her hips forward a little to open her sex to his direct view. The act itself drove her own desire to such a pitch that she almost couldn't keep her hands off herself. But she wanted to leave that to Patrick. She closed and opened her legs again, then let them lay open in invitation. Her nipples were so tight they felt like bees buzzing.  


Patrick could barely breathe. Teresa was flashing her naked delta! This time it was an invitation, a semaphore opening the pink candyfloss of her plump vulva to him alone. There was something so primal, so pre-language, about a woman, this woman, deliberately catching his attention and then signaling her sexual receptivity to him in this open, lascivious way. It completely undid the native inhibition deep in his brain and focused all his intent on satisfying an immediate and raging lust for her. It was an existential moment. The entire world collapsed like gravity in a black hole and settled in his sexual parts, connecting like a live wire to his tightening nipples, his moistening lips, his heated hands and the eyes that focused on Lisbon. His Lisbon. His Teresa.  


He fell on her like a ravenous wolf, licking and suckling the candyfloss she offered him until she was arched and moaning. He sat up, pulling her hips to his face and draping his legs over his crouched frame. Stiffening his tongue, he plunged it into her hot center, using it to taste and feel her internally, so smooth except for the enticing ridges on the top wall. She was starting to cry out in earnest, trembling so uncontrollably that he couldn't continue holding her up. Patrick settled her hips back on the couch and focused all his attention on the hard nub unhooded between her legs, opening her gently to expose it to the workings of his mouth and tongue.  


Teresa began to mewl and then to cry. Unrelenting in his mouthing of her, he reached to fondle her breasts as well, stroking their creamy sides, and then concentrating on her nipples. Teresa wailed and immediately went into orgasm, tears streaming from her eyes. In a few moments, her spasms began to wane, but Teresa still whimpered breathlessly. Patrick wrapped his arms around her, kissing her tears and telling her, "So beautiful. You're so beautiful, Teresa."  


He really couldn't understand why he was so painfully erect and not spent himself. But he knew he wanted to feel her orgasm wrap him, pulling him over the edge with her. That's the way he wanted to go. And he wanted a roomy bed for it. He picked Teresa up and moved towards the bedroom. Here lay this strong woman, nude and flushed, completely undone and willing to be helpless in his arms. His lust for her was beyond anything he'd ever felt.  


Patrick laid Teresa on the bed and stood over her, loving the sight of her vulnerability to him. She stole trembling breaths of air, almost as if she were sobbing. "Teresa."  


She opened her eyes and looked directly into his, listening and starting to hiccup softly. She was adorable and he desired her more than ever. "Open your legs to me again."  


Her breath caught.. Then Teresa pulled her feet closer to her body and let her knees fall wide apart, pushing her hips upwards to him, her movements creating a natural, almost imperceptible undulation. She was an even deeper pink now, like glazed early strawberries. With one smooth motion, he lowered himself to meet her body, and entered her, pushing deftly until he had buried his full length in her. She gasped his name and looked into his eyes. She was earth. She was fire. And she told him what she wanted. "Let it go, Patrick."  


He had already begun, stroking into her again and again with abandon, the mere idea of being inside his Teresa driving him to ecstasy. She lifted her hips and wrapped her legs around him so that he would rock deep inside her between those powerful thrusts, her lovely voice whispering encouragement into his ear, until she was gasping the arrival of her orgasm. It bore down on him, clenching him into its own soft heat, pulling him deeper as his own orgasm burst into her. His final cry flew from the deepest part of him. Patrick had one last thought before he drifted into a light post-coital sleep. If there was a heaven, this woman was its dwelling place!


End file.
